


Of Drugs And Love

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-10
Updated: 2003-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 06:24:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted to Deadjournal. I am unsure if I ever posted it anywhere else.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Of Drugs And Love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Deadjournal. I am unsure if I ever posted it anywhere else.

The defenders numbered six. Frodo, of course, had to go on and Sam would not leave him. Gandalf went along to show them the way. Merry and Pippin had chosen to stay and fight. Boromir realized, although the little ones did not, that they did not think they could die. Boromir was too experienced a soldier to think himself above death.

The opposition numbered more than two thousand. Legolas had first spotted the approaching army two days ago, and even then there had been a great hurry to ready the warriors and the plans. They would have to distract the Orcs for as long as possible.

Trees had been felled, and a barricade had been set up. Aragorn and Legolas spent most of their time making arrows. Merry and Pippin, who did not know the art of fletechery, ran around collecting feathers and wood.

Boromir had built better blockades, but then he had had engineers with him, and a thousand men. Now, there were six workers, three of whom would not come up to the waist of any self-respecting soldier.

But, for now, Boromir put those thoughts out of his mind. The army was several hours away and he would not let his thoughts drift into morbidity. There would be time enough for that in death. "How many arrows have you?"

Aragorn surveyed the pile growing at his and Legolas' feet. Half the arrows in the pile would never had passed inspection, but looks or craft was not important now, just how well they would fly. "Enough to fell the first wave, perhaps more. Legolas can shoot two for my every one, so it will go quickly. But when the light fails, I will not be able to shoot with any reasonable accuracy. My skills as an archer have never been tested until fire such as this."

"The light will not fail that much for a good eight hours," Legolas noted. "There will be time enough."

Boromir nodded and pulled out his pipe. It had been a present from Faramir before he began his quest and, as Faramir knew that his brother did not smoke, it had been intended as a good luck charm. The day you use it, Faramir had said, will be the day you understand why everyone else does. And on a day when you finally understand your friends, you can never fall in battle. And then Faramir had quoted some archaic source and grinned. Boromir had made a mental note to check if that source existed, but had never had the time. "Aragorn, you are a scholar, are you not?"

"Of sorts."

"Have you ever heard of a tome called 'Charms of Propriety'?"

Aragorn looked up at this. "Can't say I have."

"Nor have I," Legolas said. "Why do you ask?"

"My brother quoted it to me. I had wondered if he was making it up. Now seemed like a good enough time as any to discover that my little brother is a chronic liar." Boromir rummaged through one of the packs at his feet and brought out some pipeweed.

"That's mine," Aragorn said, then added, "you may have some, if you wish."

Boromir nodded and filled the pipe. He had watched Aragorn do this enough times to know how to do it. He lit the pipe and inhaled deeply. Soothing. He sighed and exhaled. "This is wonderful."

"I find it relaxing. I have never seen you smoke before."

"That's because I haven't. I always assumed it would kill me. Taking smoke into one's lungs has always struck me as poison." Boromir shrugged. "It seems a moot point now."

"That's rather depressing."

Boromir raised his eyebrows. "I've resigned myself to my fate, son of Arathron. Today is as good a day to die as any."

"You're suicidal." It was almost a question and Aragorn looked up from his fletchery to search Boromir's face for an instant.

"The life expectancy of a Gondorian soldier lowers to five minutes the moment he steps out onto the battle plain. We are all of us suicidal." Boromir inhaled again and the warm feeling spread through his body. "After a battle, we burn the carcasses of the enemy. That takes a mere two hours or so. Then a messenger is sent back to my father, and we spend the next ten days burying our dead." He shook his head sadly. "We are a people at war. How can we not be resigned? We will fight to the death, but we know that we will die."

"You have survived so far."

"Luck." Boromir dismissed and exhaled smoke. Feeling a slight lack, he inhaled again. "And the sacrifice of my friends. At the battle of Osgiliath, ten men died to save my life. My lover was one of them."

There was silence for a long moment, and Aragorn repeated Boromir's last statement to himself. "Your lover?"

"Malguv, son of Larguv. He was tall, blonde like the Riders of Rohan, and had the most wonderful eyes. We met in combat. It was his first battle, my second. He had dropped his sword." Boromir smiled, lost in the memory. "I reached down to pick it up. He looked at me, slightly lost, and then grabbed it. He then lifted it and ran it through an Orc about to attack me. Still looking somewhat lost, he wiped it on his doublet and then moved on. I found him again after the battle and from then on we were lovers. My father didn't exactly approve but I didn't care. After all, there is always Faramir. *He* likes girls." Seeing Aragorn and Legolas' uncomprehending stares, he added. "I'm forty years old and never taken a wife. I know I mentioned that before. Why the surprise?"

"That you didn't mention this," Aragorn muttered. If Boromir hadn't know better, he would have said the Ranger was blushing.

Boromir shrugged. "Thought it was obvious." He inhaled again. Damn, this felt good. Numbing. Made all the bad world go away. "After all, I kept hitting on you this entire time. You're not stupid enough not to have noticed that."

"Not stupid enough?"

"Well, know you're stupid because you haven't been back to Gondor in ages. But not that stupid, becuase you didn't introduce yourself to me right off. Wanted me to judge you the way you were, right? And not as the damned absent king." Boromir refilled the suddenly empty pipe. "You're welcome there, you know," he said suddenly. "Gondor could use a good king. I'm gonna die here, and Faramir, well, Father doesn't like Faramir all that much. Don't see why. Faramir's a scholar, just like Father. And a good swordsman, but don't tell him I told you. Like to rib him about it."

"Why?"

Aragorn's voice seemed so far away. "Right as older brother. I remember him when he was still a baby. Seems sort of strange to see him wield a sword."

"I suppose I understand that. Men grow fast."

"Too fast," Boromir agreed, wondering why he felt so exhausted. He had slept the night before. He shouldn't be so tired. "Problem is, I've led sons into battle, when their fathers already fell." Wait, that didn't make sense. "Fathers fell in battle. With me," he elaborated. "And then I led their sons. Later."

"I understood the first time, Boromir. That's rather tragic." Aragorn bent down to get another block of wood and began to carve more arrows. He risked one more glance at Boromir to see his face flushed and his hands shaking slightly as he refilled the pipe once more.

"No such thing. Just evil. Gotta kill 'em. Gotta kill those damn Orcs."

"That's a good philosophy."

"Philosophy be damned. Is truth." And Boromir did not speak again for a while.

Legolas turned to Aragorn. "Why didn't you tell him the pipeweed was drugged?"

"And miss out on his confession?" Aragorn sighed and tossed another crude arrow into the pile. "He's been so tightly wound and when he took out my medicinal spices, I figured I would give him a chance to truly relax." Aragorn shrugged and began to carve once more. "He'll awaken before the Orcs get here."


End file.
